


So Fare You, We're Homeword Bound

by eternalbrook



Series: no more gales or heavy weather [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Mutiny, Post-Rescue, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29322630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalbrook/pseuds/eternalbrook
Summary: “Why does the captain want us?” Tommy whispers.“Dunno,” Sol says. He looks unworried. “Cheer up, Tommy.” He sneaks his arm behind where no one else can see and pinches Tommy on the arse. Tommy hides a giggle in his arm and shoves him with his shoulder. He’s no better at keeping a straight face around Sol now than he was back then, for all the practice he’s had. When they had first left Greenhithe Tommy hadn’t been able to look at him without blushing. He was too handsome to do Tommy any good, standing broad-shouldered in his red coat and making Tommy forget what it was that needed doing. He got so used to looking down at the floor around him that it took him a winter to realize Sol was staring back at him, and hotly. So hotly that Tommy hadn’t been terribly surprised when one day Sol had pulled him into the hold and fucked him over a barrel, but he had been surprised after when he had kissed him on the nose and called himsweetheart.
Relationships: Thomas Armitage/Solomon Tozer
Series: no more gales or heavy weather [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156481
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33
Collections: The Terror Rarepair Week 2021





	So Fare You, We're Homeword Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to [attheborder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/attheborder/pseuds/attheborder) and [cherrytart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrytart/pseuds/cherrytart), armitozer high priestesses.

Tommy is in the sick hut when Lieutenant Hodgson finds him. The Hudson Bay Company surgeon, a white-bearded bear of a man named Mr. Fergusson, had needed an assistant during the winter, and Tommy had found himself changing compresses and emptying chamber pots. He had also joined some of the hunting parties, which had been more fun, and he had struck a caribou that had fed them for a month and made the men cheer his name. But the sick hut was never empty, and Tommy spent more time in it than not. He tries to ignore the smell and to be gentle when changing bandages, touching softly the way his ma had when he had been little and burning with fever. 

His bad ear is turned toward the door as he sorts tinctures and he doesn’t hear the lieutenant until he’s repeating himself. “You can leave that, Mr. Armitage,” he says. His voice is soft and unsure, the way it has been since they found him on the shale with shoe leather in his mouth. “The captain has ordered a meeting.” 

“Right, sir.” Tommy follows the lieutenant out of the hut. He hopes that whatever speech Captain Crozier has to give will be short, and that he can stand near the back. He can't look the captain in the eyes these days. When he does he blushes for shame at the memory of holding a gun to him, hitting him with the butt of his rifle. _Private Armitage_ Hickey had called him, and he had been, hadn’t he, a marine for once in his life, serving a captain sick in the head with cruelty. He wishes he had known then what kind of man Hickey was. He wishes even more that he had known what kind of man Crozier is, because then they would have stayed with him in the first place. But the captain he’d known until then had been rumdum half the time, and had dried out only to lead the walk over the ice, lying about rescue and the poison tins the whole time. Now he’s kind, and Tommy wishes he were mean so he might not feel this guilt.

Hodgson leads him into one of the officers' huts and Tommy’s stomach seizes when he sees that it’s not the whole crew but just a handful of men, and all of them from the mutiny. He sits between Will and Magnus. 

“Do you know what this is about?” he asks, but they both shake their heads.

“It’s warmer now,” says Magnus. “Maybe the captain wants us to start walking again”

“He wouldn’t ask for just us, though.” Tommy turns to Will. “D’you think-”

“No,” Will cuts off with a shake of his head. “He wouldn’t court martial us, not now. Not after all this time. He said we were forgiven.”

Tommy figures that makes sense, but the unease doesn’t leave. He feels better when he sees Sol enter the hut, pushing towards him. “Shove over, Private,” he tells Will, who grumbles and shifts so Sol can sit next to Tommy. Sol’s body is a warm comfort next to his. 

“Why does the captain want us?” Tommy whispers.

“Dunno,” Sol says. He looks unworried. “Cheer up, Tommy.” He sneaks his arm behind where no one else can see and pinches Tommy on the arse. Tommy hides a giggle in his arm and shoves him with his shoulder. He’s no better at keeping a straight face around Sol now than he was back then, for all the practice he’s had. When they had first left Greenhithe Tommy hadn’t been able to look at him without blushing. He was too handsome to do Tommy any good, standing broad-shouldered in his red coat and making Tommy forget what it was that needed doing. He got so used to looking down at the floor around him that it took him a winter to realize Sol was staring back at him, and hotly. So hotly that Tommy hadn’t been terribly surprised when one day Sol had pulled him into the hold and fucked him over a barrel, but he had been surprised after when he had kissed him on the nose and called him _sweetheart_. 

Tommy tugs on the sling Sol keeps his arm in. “You should come by the sick hut later and I’ll make you a new one.” Pretty soon Sol won’t have to wear it any more. The break in his arm from breaking out of the boat chain had healed funny and when the Hudson Bay Company party arrived Mr. Fergusson had broken it again to reset it. Tommy had put the bit between his teeth, ignoring the surgeon’s raised eyebrows and holding Sol’s head between his hands, pressing their foreheads together and whispering comfort as Sol screamed. But Mr. Fergusson says it’s healing well now and soon it will be good as new.

“I like this one,” Sol says. “You made it neat.” He runs his thumb over the fabric on his wrist. Tommy knows he’s feeling the inner layer where, hidden from where anyone could see, Tommy had used a navy thread from his own jumper to stitch a small heart.

“Aye, well, I can make the next one neat, too.” Tommy grins at him but then Captain Crozier enters the hut and his nerves come rushing back.

“Gentlemen,” Crozier says as he takes position in the center of their circle. He looks as sober as he ever does. “We’ve had a good winter recovering with the Company. It’s time to start thinking now about what is done next.”

He takes off his hat and looks at them straight and steady. “You know I do not bear a grudge against any of you for what happened with Mr. Hickey, or . . .” his face twists and he gestures vaguely, “whatever he may have been named. I have no desire to see you punished. I am prepared to tell the admiralty that you were forced and manipulated into mutiny. For some of you I believe it may be safe to return to England.”

A murmur breaks through the group but Crozier continues. “My power within the admiralty, however, is limited. There will still be charges brought, and I cannot guarantee that you will all see acquittal. Those of you who played larger roles,” here he nods at Sol, “would be safer avoiding England. There is work to be had here, trapping with the Company or logging further south. A man could build a good life.”

“But we can go home?” Magnus asks. “Back to Shildon?”

“Yes, Manson,” Crozier says. “You can. It’s your sisters in Shildon, right? I’m sure they miss you terribly.”

Crozier dismisses them and the men gather around each other, talking excitedly. Lieutenant Hodgson’s eyes are wet. Magnus looks like he’s woken up on Christmas. “I get to go home, Tommy! Back to Bessie and Alice.”

Tommy claps him on the arm. “Aye, Magnus. And Alice must have some babies by now. You’ll be an uncle.”

The only one who doesn’t look happy is Sol, who is standing apart with his arms hugged tightly to him. He’s frowning at the ground. Tommy wants to ask what’s wrong, but then Mr. Fergusson is bellowing for him to shift his arse and bring a sick bucket, so he hurries away.

~.~

The bandages Tommy washed and hung in the sleeping lodge are finally dry, or dry enough, Tommy figures. Nothing gets properly clean here, but it’s better than they’ve been used to. He’s got enough lye left that he could even wash some of their shirts and smalls.

He stacks the bandages in his arms and starts his way back to the sick hut, humming to himself. _A good life_ , the captain had said, and Tommy lets the thought settle in him like a shot of rum. He and Sol had known they were giving up on England when they threw in with Hickey. That had been an easy enough choice, compared to dying on the ice. Sol had talked of fresh game and a quicker trek, and Tommy hadn’t thought of anything beyond that. But there’s more that he can look forward to now. He and Sol can keep going south, find work. He knows that trappers spend most of the year traveling alone but he likes the idea of logging. He doesn’t know the first thing about it, but he could learn. Sol would be good at it. He’s got strong shoulders.

Tommy thinks of a log cabin deep in the woods. Maybe he doesn’t know timber but he knows how to keep a house, and he’d keep everything tidy for Sol, do all the cooking. He imagines brightly colored curtains and a rag rug in front of a fireplace. A proper bed big enough for two. There’d be no one around to hide from, no lash to fear. Tommy could kiss Sol any time he wanted. Thinking of it makes him dizzy. 

Tommy is smiling when he arrives at the sick hut. Mr. Fergusson is stood outside smoking his pipe.

“That Tozer fella’s in there saying his sling needs fixin’. Ain’t nothing wrong with it. Fix him up and send him on his way. We don’t need him malingerin’ around.”

Tommy pulls Sol into a corner near the cot of a trapper half-shot on laudanum for a broken leg. He starts picking at the knot on his sling. He likes fixing Sol’s sling because it gives him an excuse to touch his arms with no one looking at them sideways. He takes a fresh strip of linen and ties it around his shoulder. Sol is warm and solid under his hands. 

“I think I’ll write a letter to my ma,” he murmurs, “send it back with Magnus.”

“Tommy . . .”

“I’ll explain what happened. Let her know I’m alright.”

“Tommy, you should go back to England.”

Tommy freezes. “What?”

“You heard what the captain said. He’ll fight for you. You don’t need to worry about the admiralty. Tell them you were pressed into it. Tell them I forced you. They’ll acquit you.” 

“I- I don’t-” Tommy’s face is numb. Sol keeps talking.

“You could see your mum again, Tommy, not just write her. Go back to Chatham. Have your old life back. It would be like none of this had happened.”

Tommy sits down heavy on a linen chest. “And leave you?”

“Fuck, Tommy.” Sol laughs like a gasp, no humor in it. “You’d be alright. You’d do without me. Have a good life.”

He can’t look Sol in the face anymore. He looks at the dirt, thinking he might be sick. “I don’t understand,” he says wretchedly. “Haven’t I been a good wife to you?”

“ _Tommy_ -” Sol grabs his arm, but Tommy can’t look at him. Sol’s voice is so rough it hardly makes a sound. “Don’t say that. I’m just trying to do right by you.”

“Trying to do right by hurting me?”

“I’m trying to fix it. It’s my fault you’re in this mess.”

“Aye, maybe it is,” Tommy says, wrenching his arm away. “You decided we should follow Hickey, and now it’s your decision I should leave. Maybe the problem is you making decisions.”

Sol looks stricken. Tommy’s anger leaves with the same rush it came. He knows he’s going to cry, and he can’t bear to have Sol see. “I have to go,” he stumbles, and leaves as quickly as he can.

~.~

Tommy returns to the sick hut hours later, drying his eyes. He stands numbly as Mr. Fergusson keelhauls him for shirking his duties and takes the basin shoved at him to begin his rounds.

The first patient to see is Jopson. “‘m supposed to help you wash, sir,” he mumbles. 

“Alright, Mr. Armitage,” Jopson says. His voice is chilly. Tommy wets a rag and begins wiping the sweat and grime from his face. Jopson appraises him with ice blue eyes. Tommy doesn’t think Jopson ever thought much of him, not with how he left smudges on the silver and snuck extra licorice to Sol, but that was nothing compared to his opinion since Tommy betrayed the captain. Crozier forgave but Jopson did not. Most days Tommy avoids him as much as possible in the crowded hut, but now he feels filled with hurt and has no room left to mind.

“So you’ll be coming back to England, then?” Jopson asks and Tommy pauses as he reaches for a new shirt.

“I- I don’t know.” He hasn’t thought that far. Should he go to England? If Sol doesn’t want him, what would be the point of staying? Maybe he should take his chances with the admiralty. At the very least he’d be able to see his ma again before they throw him in chains. But the thought of a whole ocean between him and Sol makes tears prick in his eyes anew.

“I haven’t decided,” he says, wiping his eyes quickly. “It depends on who else stays.”

“Ah,” Jopson remarks. Tommy gets the same feeling he used to get when he’d show up late to shift with bruised lips and a hitch in his step, that Jopson knows a lot more than he lets on. “Well, you’d best make up your mind, Mr. Armitage. Try not to let the decisions of others influence you overly.”

“Right, sir,” Tommy says, and helps him put on a fresh shirt, thinking that it’s more than too late for that.

~.~

The sleeping lodge is one low, long room where the men line up their sleeping sacks like matchsticks in a box. Usually Tommy and Sol take the far corner away from the fire, as close to private as they’ve ever had. Tonight Tommy takes his sack and sets it next to Magnus. Magnus is still bubbly with joy.

“Do you think Bessie will make me plum duff when I get back? It’s supposed to be just for Christmas but sometimes we can have it if it’s a special occasion. Bessie puts extra raisins in mine.” 

Tommy sighs and pulls his blanket closer around him.

“Lady must have had a litter by now. I was going to give a kitten to Bobby across the street ‘cause he needed a mouser. Lady’s a much better mouser than Fagin, and nicer too. You can pet her for hours. Will you come visit, Tommy?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy says. He’s so tired.

“But you could meet Lady.”

“I need to sleep, Magnus. Can you tell me about Lady tomorrow?” He rolls over and pushes his face into Sol’s old sweater. Sol had given it to him to use as a pillow. He supposes he’ll have to give it back.

Tommy closes his eyes and tries to blank his mind of all thoughts. He focuses on the weight of the blankets and the scratch of the wool and the smell of smoke and sweat in the lodge. The wind has quieted down outside and the men are rustling in their sleep sacks, snoring and shuffling. A pair of footsteps comes up behind him and then there’s Sol’s voice, low and urgent.

“Manson, switch spots with me.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, lad.”

“But it’s warmer here.”

“I’ll trade you two days’ salt pork if you do it.”

Tommy hears shuffling and then there’s Sol’s warmth behind him. He doesn’t turn around. Sol pushes their sleep sacks together and pulls Tommy to him by the waist. He puts his face in Tommy’s curls. When he speaks, it’s a whisper.

“It’s good money in logging. We could go to Rupert’s Land, where it’s warmer. They say there are forests there bigger than all of England, waiting to be cut. We’ll get work. I’ll get work. You won’t have to work if you don’t want to. I’ll work twice as hard as any man so you can stay warm inside all day. I’ll build us a cabin. A real home, to keep you proper in. We’ll be wed.”

Tommy feels a happiness bigger than any he’s felt before fill him. He takes Sol’s hand in his and kisses it. “Forever?”

“Aye, Tommy. Forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> Canadian Love Shack sequel(s) forthwith.  
> All comments and kudos greatly appreciated!


End file.
